A Month Later

Dean and Cas' Apartment


Everything had fallen into place. Cas found a surprisingly well-paid job with a security company, setting up systems and doing risk analysis for the D-List and the wealthy. Dean was working in a garage with some guys Bobby served with back in the day. Every week, he picked up a status report and basket of scones from Gabriel at the bakery. Even so, the rent was actually covered pretty well, enough that he and Cas got a not-crappy couch that Samantha picked out, something Swedish or something. It was all going well.

And that's when Gabriel burst into their apartment one evening and threw himself on their nice, lovely couch like some sort of Old Hollywood, Deep Southern starlet, ever the drama queen.

Dean looked from him to the door, back and forth. The door had definitely been locked. He knew for a fact. Better yet, he'd never told Gabriel where he lived. And now he was making a pretty dramatic display in his and Cas' living room. The other occupant in question basically flew out of the kitchen, a huge steak knife in his hand. Not something Dean would ever want to be on the other end of.

"Who are you?" Cas growled.

Dean put a hand on his arm. "Relax, he's the guy I've been paying to-"

"Castiel?" Gabriel asked in surprise when he looked up. "Holy shit." He looked at Dean hard, murderous, giving off a very clear Do not fuck with me vibe. "Did you set me up?" Dean was getting the feeling that grievous bodily harm was on the menu for the evening.

"No, what are you talking about? You're the one who just showed up, unannounced, in our living room."

"Our? You're with Castiel?" Gabriel threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, this is fucking rich."

Cas appeared in front of him, slipping the knife to his throat. Dean started, but held himself back. He kinda wanted to know why his roommate-slash-life partner and Sam's fake drug dealer knew each other. Obviously.

"Oh, please. You and I both know no less than twenty-seven ways to disarm you from this position," Gabriel said, a smirk on his face. "This is cute. Really."

Cas backed off, his movements hesitant. "You're…."

"I take it you're not on the inside, then, if you're living with this bozo. If not, you better complain to your superiors, because this is a pretty shitty gig." Dean didn't take offense; Gabriel pretty much used insults as terms of endearment, sort of to make up for the delicious things he made. But he was a bit confused with the way the whole exchange was going.

"Correct; I'm not serving any longer. Who are you?"

"Someone who's a hell of a lot smarter than you. Really, you should look into plastic surgery. It's not safe these days to be walking around with your own face." Dean looked between the two of them, starting to get the picture. They must have been in the same garrison or something. Dean wasn't actually sure how it was all organized, to be honest, and he always got the feeling that the fewer questions he asked, the better.

"That would be why I didn't recognize you. In which garrison did you serve?"

Gabriel laughed. "Serve? I only ever served one, and He hasn't been giving orders for quite some time."

Cas dropped the knife. The carpet absorbed the sound into a thud, but it seemed loud in the sudden silence.

"You're one of the original four, aren't you?"

"In the flesh." Gabriel shrugged, then crossed his legs. "So, how are my brothers doing?"

"Michael and Lucifer are…" Dean looked at Cas, wondering how much he'd say, how much of the past he'd dig up. "…they've been neutralized. Raphael is still a threat, and until seven minutes ago, you were on the LAM."

Gabriel looked between the two of them with a raised eyebrow. "Michael and Lucifer were always a couple of whiny little dicks. I'm sure they deserved it." He shrugged. "So tell me, Cassie, what made you break rank and join the ant farm? I don't remember hearing about you rebelling at all; I might have recruited you if I'd known."

"It was...complicated." It was a loaded word, and Dean had been the one who'd crammed the bullets into that particular gun. But he wasn't ready to start reliving any of those memories just yet.

"Why are you here, Gabriel?" Dean said, finally speaking.

Gabriel smirked maliciously. "Funny you should ask. See, your little brother tried to give me a blowjob."


Two Hours Earlier

Gabriel's Apartment


Gabriel sighed when he saw the text on his phone. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Treeboy must really like his company, considering that they'd been seeing each other every couple of days, sometimes twice a day, since they met. Always, Gabriel, I need this, or Gabriel, when can I see you? If it wasn't for the frankly ridiculous amount of fake meth the kid was shoving up his nose, Gabriel would think he had a crush.

The whole thing actually made him feel a little guilty, which was kind of creepy and weird. Gabriel didn't do guilt; he did inappropriate levels of amusement.

Maybe it was the gangly limbs. Or maybe the puppy eyes. Actually, it was definitely the puppy eyes. He was a sucker for puppy eyes. All it took was one little flash of them baby blues (or hazels, as was the case), and he was handing out free gourmet cupcakes like he didn't have a business to run. Well, okay, it would take a lot more than a few cupcakes to bankrupt him, but the point was, he didn't like not being in control. It…tickled. In a bad way.

So when Sammy Redwood Winchester pulled out his puppy eyes, Gabriel found himself dishing out enough fake meth to kill him, enormous size or no. It occurred to him that Sam might have been selling it, but he definitely wasn't. He wasn't that sort of person. Besides, Gabriel would have seen, considering that he'd been following him around with creepy regularity. Well, not that creepy, since he's paid to. Paid enough that he can actually just leave the bakery closed while he goes out stalking. Nevermind that he may have hired a very large man to, ahem, persuade Sam's little junkie-enabler girlfriend to leave the state.

The doorbell rang ("Never Gonna Give You Up") and Gabriel yelled, "Come in, Sammy-boy!" He wasn't going to get up for Sam. Nope.

But when Sam came into his living room, he did just that.

The kid looked like a complete mess. Inky circles under his eyes, long hair making weird shapes, hands opening and closing quickly. He looked like he was in a panic - a serious one. Sure, his message had sounded kind of needy, but Gabriel hadn't thought it was too urgent. Looked like he'd thought wrong.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, uncomfortable that he felt bad for the kid.

"Last night. Well, starting three days ago. My roommate got a porn virus on our computer and it deleted a project that was due today. I had to stay up both nights to redo it. Burned through my stash. Man, I'm dying here." Gabriel was a little impressed - the kid stayed up for three days on sugar pills? That was pretty intense.

"Don't worry about it. I've got more."

"That's the thing. I- I can't pay. I don't have the money. I haven't eaten in a couple days, and I've still got to last until the end of the month. I literally have negative cash to give you." Poor Tree. Gabriel felt surprisingly terrible about the situation, but it wasn't like he was going to admit it.

"Sam. You know I don't deal on credit."

"I know. I know that. That's why- I mean, I was wondering if- Fuck, I don't know how to say it," Sam stuttered anxiously. And then he got down. On his knees. And started working at Gabriel's belt.

Gabriel jumped back. "Whoa there, kiddo. Can't slide to third if you haven't even touched first base yet." Sam stood up, ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"Um, alright, I guess. I can…I can do that." And just like that, he kissed Gabriel. Just planted one right on him. Not what he was expecting. Not at all. In the utter what the fuck?ery of the moment, it took Gabriel a second or two longer than he wanted to push him away, but push he did. Hard. Enough to land the gentle giant on his backside.

"Not what I meant!" Gabriel said clearly, slowly so he didn't miss the point. "I'm more of a boobs kind of guy. And by that, I mean, try again when you have lady bits. Overgrown foliage doesn't do it for me."

There was a second of puppy eyes- damn him-and then Sam started crying. Fucking crying. Okay, not sobbing and wailing, but there were tears. It was actually vaguely manly, in a sort of angry, frustrated way (however that worked), but there were still tears, and Gabriel didn't do tears. That was way out of his comfort zone. He shouldn't have to deal with tears. Ever. And yet, there was a sasquatch with very real tears in his living room, and Gabriel kept blinking, but he wasn't going away any time soon.

Jesus. What do you do in this kind of situation?

Gabriel came back from the kitchen a second later and squatted down beside Waterworks Winchester. "Here."

Sam looked up with watery eyes, then down at the muffin. He blinked a few times.

"It's not going to change colors if you keep staring at it. Well, not for a few days, at least." Sam looked at it, looked at him. "Just take the damn muffin, alright?"

Sam took the muffin. Thank God.Better yet, he'd stopped crying. It looked like baked goods really did solve everything.

"Look, it goes against every good business practice ever, but I'll give you a pass this time. I'll give you what you need, okay? Just no more blubbering. Or the other thing. Definitely not the other thing."

"Thanks." This time, the puppy eyes gave him this really foreign urge to hug him, of all things, but Gabriel was a man of restraint (okay, that's a lie) and he didn't. But man, poor kid. Staying awake for two or three days, not eating, snorting sugar - that was enough to make anyone neurotic as hell. He'd been dealt a pretty fucking terrible hand.


Dean and Cas' Apartment


"Funny you should ask. See, your little brother tried to give me a blowjob."

"He WHAT?" Dean bellowed, ready to pummel the guy. Whatever truce they had was abso-fucking-lutely gone. He was gonna learn what pain was really like. And Dean knew how to deal it.

Gabriel held his hands out, offering a weirded-out expression. "Whoa there. Relax, Rambo. I didn't take him up on it."

"Tell me what the fuck happened. Now."

"He's been having some stress. Might I suggest sending him some cash? Boy's got to eat."

"Yeah, funny, maybe if I wasn't giving all of our extra money to you, I would be able to do that." And of course, he signed a damn contract on that couch, threw away all their spare cash on the down payment.

Gabriel facepalmed, sliding his hand down his face as if it could wipe away the past couple of minutes. "Fine. Here's what's going to happen: First off, we're never going to speak of this little deal again, and then I'm going to give you back a hundred and fifty and you're going to give it to him and he's going to eat and we can all go back to how we were before. Got it?" Dean softened. That was better than he could have asked for.

"Why are you being so nice?"

"I don't even know. I guess your tree grew on me." Gabriel chuckled softly to himself and the bad joke, but Dean didn't even crack a smile. "Couldn't resist."

"Well, thanks, I guess. For the cash, and, I guess, not taking advantage of him being stupid. I owe you one."

Gabriel got up, a very tired look on his face. "You owe me a lot more than one, Dean-o." He headed to the door, then stopped and turned. "I gotta ask: Cassie, you made an honest man out of him yet?"

"Dean and I aren't in a relationship," Cas said with that long-suffering air they'd both acquired when people ask or tease about their Hetero-Bromance.

"Right." Gabriel waggled his eyebrows and he was gone.

Dean fell forwards onto the couch with an incredibly emphatic sigh. Way too much drama.


The Next Day

Gabriel's Apartment


Getting Rick Rolled by his doorbell was starting to lose its whimsy.

"Come in!" Gabriel yelled with maybe more aggression than strictly necessary. He had to remind himself that it was Rick Astley he was pissed at and not whoever bothered coming over.

"Hey." It was that sort of halfway-assertive, halfway-casual greeting Sam usually used. When he wasn't about to offer a hummer in exchange for stuff he didn't need.

"I take it you slept and feasted? You look a little less like death today."

"Yeah." Sam said it in an embarrassed way. "Thanks for all the food. It was really good." The half-dozen man-sized kolaches and hazlenut fudge bar he sent Sam home with had maybe been a bit of an impulse, a moment of weakness, but it felt wrong to send the kid home without food when he lived over a damn bakery, for crying out loud.

"Having a legitimate business does have its perks."

Sam pulled out his wallet, took out a few twenties. "For the…you know, and the food." Gabriel took most of it, but left a lonely Andrew Jackson in his hand. He wasn't cruel.

"Baked goods on the house." He shrugged and looked away, uncomfortable. Awkward silences were never his thing.

"I wanted to thank you. I mean, I did already, but for the rest of it. Fuck, I probably would have done anything you asked yesterday." A sudden, unbidden image of Sam bent over his couch, begging for something without words flashed into his mind. Jesus. What was wrong with him? "But thank you. You know. For not. And you could have kicked me out on my ass, but you didn't. I mean, I was a mess, and- It was really nice of you. I really appreciate it." Gabriel had never heard anyone say those words and actually mean them until that moment. And damn, there was just a hint of the puppy eyes.

Oh, he was screwed. Fucked six ways to Sunday.

"Kid, sit down." Gabriel patted the couch next to him, went and got a slice of Triple Chocolate Death Threat cake from the kitchen. He handed him the cake and sat back down. "You need to fucking relax." Sam took it, looked at it, confused.

"Thanks. I mean, you really don't have to be so nice."

"Kid, eat." Sam brought the first bite to his lips and, hesitantly, slid it into his mouth, like he was scared of what was in the cake. He blinked a few times, then relaxed into the couch. "Good?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is." Gabriel got a little warm inside; it was nice to hear someone complement his work.

"Good. I'll probably start selling it next week. You should come by for a slice sometime. I could turn you into my taste-tester."

Oh yeah. He was breaking his rules for Sammy Treebeard Winchester, and it was looking like the number of fucks he gave was just about equal to the number of vaginas he had. What a strangely glorious feeling.